


Things Left Unsaid

by subtextgirl



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-21
Updated: 2005-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtextgirl/pseuds/subtextgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They didn't know how it was going to end." One shot. Future fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine

By the time he noticed her, weaving her way through the steady stream of harassed workers and misguided tourists, the mild chill of the early evening was beginning to creep into the air. The sun was now straining through the light clouds which had formed overhead while he’d been sitting - peeking through the occasional gap in the towering buildings surrounding the park and sending shadows dancing casually down the steps. He watched as they shimmered across the grassy area before him, noting absently as passers-by subconsciously took a step to clear a path for them – anxious, it would seem, to make the most of the last few minutes of the day’s warmth. Casting a glance at his watch, with an unacknowledged urgency he pushed himself heavily up off the sheltered bench which had become his sanctuary. Mindful of the familiar ache in his knee, he found himself on his feet, suddenly acutely aware of the open expanse around him.

And there she was – a lone figure heading against the crowds. The air whipped around his ears, his shoulders hunched against the biting wind. As she moved closer he saw that her light hooded sweater was drawn tightly against her as if she too were fighting off the effects of the unanticipated exposure. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail - a defence against the breeze, he decided – and there was a hint of colour in her cheeks which he barely recognised. The glowing leaves above him rustled furtively as he forced his features into an unreadable expression. He couldn’t stem the curiosity that flickered in his eyes. But it was better than the other impulses that were hiding there, he supposed.

And then, suddenly, she was standing in front of him. The sun dipped behind her like a halo illuminating her presence, casting her in a warm hue. A fresh gust of wind blew between them and he could feel her eyeing him questioningly - hovering in a hesitant manner which, in another setting, and another time, would have been so familiar. As she tightened her hold on her sweater, the lucidity of the recollection forced him to inhale. The scent of freshly cut grass filled his senses. He’d been here before. They both had. The location was immaterial. They would always be here. This was a scenario set in stone, just in need of a date. Until now.

Of course, they had been here many times in the last six years – in his mind at least. Or, _almost_ here. Some things just weren’t meant to be fantasized about. As vices went, there were worse ones than denial. She, of all people, should understand that. But it was also one that others seemed to understand too. He’d studiously avoided Viv the Monday morning she’d brought _those_ pictures into work, and Danny too. Neither had said anything to him, but the office had taken on the undertone of a wake – and all were careful to leave him to his silent grief. It was, after all, of his own making.

A passing cloud interrupted his thoughts, as she fell into focus. Her hair was slightly shorter than the last time he’d seen her, and not quite so blonde. There were a couple of lines around her eyes, that were either new additions or else he had previously refused to acknowledge them. Time and distance could be blamed for a lot of things, he thought grimly. But there were other forces at fault here too.

For a moment he was grateful for her suggestion of this as their pre-arranged meeting place - kids playing, exhausted workers wanting nothing more than to get the hell home. Was this her world now? Or just a not-so-subtle reminder that life goes on? Or maybe he should just get over the melodramatic importance he was attaching to what, to the outside world, appeared to be little more than a chance meeting between a casually dressed woman and her older former employer.

A soccer ball knocked into his leg, followed by its slightly embarrassed owner. Jack nudged it back absently, shifting his gaze to nod reassuringly at the child’s harassed mother. Again he was struck again by the brightness of the evening. He would have chosen a bar for this meeting – somewhere empty and dark, and private – where people went for only two reasons – to reconnect, or just to forget; somewhere he wouldn’t see the changing light and its brutal reminder that, despite all his efforts, this day was already slipping away.   But then, she had to be the prudent one now, he supposed.

She turned and shared her own look with the young mother, who smiled back conspiratorially, staring openly at the pair. The spell broken, he cleared his throat ineffectually. When he finally spoke his voice was gruff and almost blunt.   And he was perturbed to note that her face registered little surprise at this.        

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

-/-

Scuffing the toe of her worn boots gently against the concrete slab anchoring the bench from which he’d risen on her approach, she turned thoughtfully at the sound of his voice.

It wasn’t that he sounded any different, she supposed. At least no different than he’d sounded on the telephone a couple of days previously, when she’d returned home to a blinking light on her answer machine – suddenly thankful that she’d stayed late at the office that night. An occurrence which wasn’t too unusual of late.

As she’d listened, alone, in her dark empty hallway, the play button pushed before she’d had a chance to remove her jacket, she felt a sense of relief. Not because she was going to be the only one to hear the message - from the damp coat hanging on the back of the door and the remains of take-out and the single empty beer can visible on the freshly polished oak kitchen table – she knew that she wasn’t the first to check their machine that evening. She was just relieved she didn’t have to deal with it there and then. Or indeed, until the following evening, when she would return once again to the house in time for him to drive her to the airport for her two day trip.

She also knew the questions would come. It wasn’t that she’d ever really hidden her past, or the _other_ reason she’d left New York so easily. Not really. But there were some conversations she just wasn’t eager to engage in. Not yet. And he’d figured out pretty early on, that pushing the issue wasn’t going to get him too far. Maybe in another five years she’d be ready, right?

Her expression neutral – or so she hoped – she held the gaze of the man now in front of her, wondering briefly why he hadn’t just called her cell. Even an email would have done the job. But then, maybe that would have been a little too official. Seeing as he wasn’t her boss anymore, none of this, her reason for being back in New York after all this time, was really his problem. And then, how long had it been anyway? Was it two, almost three years since she’d changed her number? She’d been meaning to drop him a line, let him know of this incidental, but apparently significant, event in her life. But for whatever reason, or so she’d told herself, she’d just never quite gotten round to it. Viv would pass on the information, she’d rationalised. After all, her former colleague had been the bearer of bigger news than that before.

Another cold gust of wind brought her back to the scene she was currently confronted with. Despite the lateness of the day, his black suit was still crisp and his jaw line held the strange illusion of being clean shaven. The dark circles under his eyes, that she had come to know so well back then, had dissipated. Yet the look in those eyes, as she found herself involuntarily searching them, was anything but well-rested.

For a second she felt the unnerving sensation that the last half decade of her life would slowly unravel in a crowded park on an innocuous New York evening.

“I almost didn’t.”

-/-

She paused, fleetingly lost in the space between the old memories and the new. There was something there, tugging on the edge of her consciousness, but she couldn’t quite place it, yet. Or maybe she didn’t want to.

Finding the prolonged motionlessness unsuitable in the evening’s climate, her companion nodded his head tentatively in the direction of the street. Softly indicating her assent, she wordlessly mirrored his action. Allowing herself to simply follow his lead, at a mutually hesitant pace, they headed out of the park and into the comfort of the bustling crowd.

The silence still hung between them.

Seemingly attempting to mask his own discomfort, she watched him raise a questioning eyebrow. She had little doubt that the gesture was meant to be comical. Yet the low tone of his voice told her that his enquiry was a serious one. It had to be.

“Well, what changed your mind?”

Damn it.

She halted momentarily. If her companion noticed, which she reasoned he must have, he never broke step. Another memory was beginning to confront her. This wasn’t meant to be happening so fast. So much for casual small talk. But then what else had she expected? If she was honest with herself, why else was she here? After all, memory lane wasn’t exactly her style. What was she really trying to prove with this?

A swift glance to her right told her that he felt it too. She fell instinctively back in step, sighing inaudibly, her head still tilted in his direction as if the moment she turned away he would somehow disappear. It was bad enough, she considered, that every memory she seemed to have of this city hinged on the man once again beside her. Now she was back here, and she could already feel the unstable line between past and present beginning to blur. The future, it would appear, still wasn’t something she cared to give much thought to. Some things really didn’t change. The notorious adage loomed on the outskirts of her mind. What was it, again, about those who forgot their past…?

But what happened if you never really managed to leave it behind in the first place?

Contemplatively she bit her bottom lip, not stopping until she felt the faint tickle of physical discomfort. Something must’ve been said between them. Why couldn’t she recall it? It hadn’t been _that_ long ago. He’d been there the day she’d left – obviously. That look on his face might have lasted, at most, a fraction of a second, but they both knew she’d seen it. Even if they both wished she hadn’t. He’d signed her transfer order himself. No explanation required – although her reason, on paper that is, would deliberately have spoken for itself. Advancement – the key word. D.C. Opportunity. Who would pass that up, right? Yet not a word had been spoken.

It was better that way. Really.

Their eyes connected and a wry smile unwittingly pulled at the corner of her mouth. How else could she react?

“What the hell kind of question is that?” She stopped, this time mid-stride.

He nodded in acquiescence, stepping apologetically out of the way of an impatient pedestrian. Despite herself, she smirked at the clumsiness of the gesture.

“I…I…,” his mouth settled into an easy grin, far from how he was feeling. “I just wasn’t expecting you to call, that’s all.”

-/-

He could feel her looking back at him - her casualness seeming unnervingly natural in comparison to his own. He was again thankful that the daylight was fading fast above them.

“You called me first, remember?” She paused again. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant. “I guess good news travels fast.”

“It was a good shooting, Sam.”

He halted at her raised eyebrows. But this time they continued their walk.  

“What? Are you keeping tabs on me?” Her voice softened. “You know that’s not your job anymore, right?”

Her tone was teasing but the words appeared to catch in her throat. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Of course he followed her career. He was the boss. The mentor.   Wasn’t that the story they’d settled on? He followed _all_ their careers. It was what proud teachers did. But then Danny, of course, was still where he belonged. And Martin… well if you listened to the senate pundits or glanced at the society pages from time to time, he wasn’t so hard to keep track of. Even if, however irrationally, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care.

Okay, so for a second, his heart had stopped in his chest, as he’d idly listened in to the latest chatter on the FBI rumour mill.   The two agents had been standing right in front of him at the time. They’d only been in the field office a few years. How were they meant to know?

_“Yeah, you know you have to go on that mandatory seminar next week, don’t you?”_

_The question echoed around the tinny elevator. Jack sighed irritably. Damn rookies. Just because it was the weekend, and his suit was at the dry cleaners. Hadn’t anyone told them it was plain dumb to bitch out the management when the management was standing right there?_

_The younger agent, who by his clean shaven appearance and the nasal quality to his hushed voice looked barely out of grade school, sighed theatrically in response._

_“Ah, yes. Weapons training 101. For newbies and screw-ups. How could I forget?”_

_His colleague grinned. “Better to be a newbie though, I reckon.” He winked leeringly. “Although, you might be in for a bit of a treat this year.”_

_The younger agent frowned in confusion as he continued._

_“Yeah, I was speaking to a buddy of mine in DC last night. Turns out they had another situation go bad there last week.” His co-worker’s interest aroused, he continued conspiratorially. “One of ours was hurt pretty bad by the sounds of it. Apparently the chick who was involved used to work here, in the missing persons unit. The hot blonde? Spade, or something, I think.” Greeted with silence, he smiled and shrugged. “Sorry, before your time, I guess.”_

_Caught up in their story, neither noticed that man behind them, his face pale, his hands clutching the support behind him._

_“Anyway, they’re making her come here. Apparently this isn’t the first time she’s been involved in something.” He smiled, almost suggestively. “Man, you should have heard the stories about why she left New York.” He paused again, adding as an afterthought. “They think her partner’s going to pull through. But it was touch and go for a while.”_

The pounding in his heart subsiding, he’d slowly made his way back to his office. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt that fear, so visceral, invade his mind and body. He remembered one other moment all too well. Lacking the courage to make the one call he _needed_ to, he’d never been more grateful that VanDoren was now in Washington. His hands shaking, he picked up the phone. The facts. The facts would be comforting. At least for now.

Dragging himself out of the memory, he shook his head imperceptibly. This wasn’t what he wanted to be thinking about.  

“It would seem I’ve gotten better at _politics_ these days,” he added in explanation. The word sounded distasteful on his lips.

Both knew they were edging toward dangerous territory. It wasn’t exactly a new feeling.

-/-

“So, you came alone?”

As superficially innocent subject changes went, it was far from smooth. A soft smile crept to her lips as she turned, looking exaggeratingly over her shoulder.

“It looks that way.”

Seeing him flinch slightly, she sighed, tucking a freshly trimmed strand of hair back in place behind her ear. “I’m sorry, this just feels so…. She glanced up, suddenly compellingly vulnerable.

“Clandestine?” he supplied.

She laughed gently. “Well, I was _going_ to say _familiar_.”

The last traces of the day now gone, she struggled for a moment with her bearings as her companion veered, instinctively it seemed, down a quieter street to their right. It barely crossed her mind that she would have made the same turning.

Subconsciously following his path, she sensed the danger that her thoughts were beginning, once more, to escape her. This happened every now and then, although recently she’d got more careful. She’d had to. And she had the piece of paper, the silverware, and the decorative white photo album in a box in a cupboard to prove it.

The whole event had actually been, to her relief, fairly low-key – just his family and friends, her mom, and a handful of her, still-new, co-workers. After all, it had been one of them, concerned how his new boss kept herself to herself night after night, who had introduced the two of them in the first place. She’d told Danny. He’d promised, eventually, to keep it to himself, but he had thought it best he didn’t show. It was too weird.

Viv was there though. To be fair, she hadn’t been given much of a choice. When she’d answered her cell one cold Wednesday evening to hear her former team mate, now a name on the bottom of an occasional cheery email from the Washington field office, choking back drunken sobs, they’d both known what the outcome would be. The next morning she was on a flight to Washington - a note waiting on her supervisor and friend’s desk. She’d be taking the rest of the week off. Personal reasons. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Not that it had stopped him calling Marcus, it had turned out. And then Viv herself. But that was that. If the groom-to-be had found the sudden presence of his fiancée’s rarely mentioned and previously uninvited New York colleague on their doorstep a little odd, he refrained from comment. Viv talked amiably and made all the appropriate comments, and when she was sure she and Samantha were alone, nodded reassuringly and told her she approved. The words were loaded, but both women merely smiled. The day after the wedding she went back home and they’d barely spoken since.

That had been almost five years ago. But it felt like a lifetime.

She looked again at the man beside her.    

Conversation may have been abandoned, yet by unspoken agreement they continued to walk. Habit, she decided, was funny that way. This companionable silence had always been their enemy as much as their friend, she thought wryly. Or maybe that was silence in general? It certainly seemed like a fitting tribute to a history of things left unsaid. Hadn’t that become their policy? A story of bad-timing and chances untaken, so tragic it was almost comical.

What would it really have taken for him to just say the words? Any words? She’d waited long enough for them. It wasn’t like she was after some undying declaration of… anything. High expectations had long since ceased to be her thing. Meaningful looks and comforting touches could hold her, it appeared, for only so long. They both knew she couldn’t keep her life on pause forever. DC had been an opportunity, but it was far from being an excuse.

She wasn’t blind, nor was she stupid. Self-preservation was one thing - her relationship with Martin had been testament to _that_. But he’d had that look on his face since the first time he’d gone back to his family. Yeah, it was affection, it was longing, but most of all it was _regret_. It was only now she wondered, just who had given up first?          

What had they both been waiting for? What was she waiting for now?

-/-

“Why are we here, Jack?”

Her voice caught him off-guard. Yet it was really a simple question – important ones often were.

What did he honestly think was going to happen tonight? That she’d fall back into his arms like some hapless heroine? They’d live out the final chapter of some dime store romance? They’d look into each others eyes and the past would be magically erased?

It was bullshit.

Or maybe it was just half a decade too late.

It wasn’t the first time they’d stood on a deserted New York evening, her beginning to shiver with cold, looking worn and tired. It wasn’t the first time he’d convinced himself that he could be the one to bring her comfort. For a moment he wanted to reach for her aching shoulders as he had done on a different night. He’d always been a man of actions when it came to her. It only now occurred to him that she’d been waiting for his words.

Of course, she hadn’t been so forthcoming with the revelations either. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Viv he probably wouldn’t have even found out she’d gone and gotten married for god’s sake.

But then that wasn’t exactly fair on his part. He was vaguely aware that he hadn’t really handled any of this is the _healthiest_ manner. Unless of course, going out to a bar the night she left and getting so drunk he barely remembered getting back to his still furniture-less house, counted. But then for the one night at least, it blotted out the image of her trembling silhouette viewed through the crack of the door from his office the evening that she had finally handed in her transfer. She obviously thought he’d left for the night, or else she’d never have let her guard down, as she let Danny slip his arm around her and escort her gently out of the bullpen. As they’d reached the elevator, the younger man had turned and shrugged almost apologetically in their bosses’ direction. It was just one more thing that was never mentioned again.

And then there was that other sin of omission. Although unacknowledged, it had loomed over every subsequent conversation they’d ever had. It wasn’t until he was sitting at home in the middle of the day, silently cherishing the hang-over he felt he deserved, counting the minutes until her plane would finally be up in the air, that he began to wonder whether its significance was of his own making.

Back then he’d decided to hold onto what little dignity he’d retained. But now it seemed pride was no longer such a factor.

“You never really _loved_ Martin, did you?”

It was more a statement than a question.

He raised his eyes cautiously, preparing himself for her reaction. But the expression on her face was one not so much of surprise, but of sadness.

“That was never really the point.”

An understanding passing between them, he nodded mutely, neither breaking stride.

It was time to let go.

-/-

“This is kind of where it went wrong, you know?”

Coming to a halt beside him, she looked up in surprise. The façade had changed; the books in the window had been replaced by a selection of cheap looking T-shirts, each declaring their love for the city.

Their destination had been inescapable.

“Where _I_ went wrong,” he qualified.

“You never did tell me what you said to him, you know?”

The wound was old, but she sensed it still ached, for both of them. The curiosity in her tone was resigned, but it was still present.

“I guess it was more what _he_ said to me.” He shrugged, perhaps philosophically, but she still caught the hint of remorse which flashed briefly across his face. “And it wasn’t what you needed to hear.”

“Was it what _you_ needed to hear?”

He sighed. “I thought so at the time.”

“And now?” Her voice was gentler than she’d intended.

A despondent chuckle escaped his lips.

“Well, history would suggest otherwise.”

There was another silence.

“I wish you’d told me that before.”

Her words were so soft they almost got lost in the wind. She glanced up at him, their gaze meeting.

His hand moved imperceptibly until it caught her own. His eyes shone, but his voice was grave.

“So do I.”

His words seeming too heavy, her glance fell involuntarily to their entwined fingers. Flesh brushing against metal, it was hardly a new experience.

He gestured in recognition, his thumb now resting softly on her wrist. “It’s getting late.” She remained silent. “You don’t want to miss your flight.”

His hand still in place, he stepped around her, his free arm signalling a lone taxi.

An unexpected lump caught in her throat, and she bit her bottom lip in frustration.

It was then she realised what she came for.

Her ride now beside them, he turned her to face him. She felt the wrenching sensation of the air being pulled from her lungs. She wasn’t certain who moved first, but in an instant she was in his arms, her face buried in his neck, the pressure of arms around backs a mutual lifeline. As she inhaled, his body shook with hers.

Feeling his jacket tangle in her vice-like grip, his voice breathed in her ear.

“Goodbye, Sam.”

His grip slowly relinquished, she pulled away reluctantly.

“So, you’ll call me the next time you’re in DC?” She didn’t need to look up.

If he attempted to answer, no words were forthcoming.

Wiping her eyes, she felt the door being closed gently behind her, his hand lingering on hers. As the cab began to pull away, she glimpsed his reflection in the mirror nodding solemnly. Even at a distance, she could see the sad smile forming on his lips.

They both knew it wasn’t true but, for the first time, it didn’t really matter.

/end


End file.
